Back in July, I wrote an entry about my cat, Scaredy Cat (also known as Lily) and her upper respiratory troubles which translated to big gobs of cat snot all over my bathroom walls. So we went to the vet and got some spiffy medications to give her over the next four weeks. When we went back for our recheck, Lily was snot free and so were my bathroom walls so life was good. Dr. Alfred sent us off telling me he wasn't a miracle worker and to call him again should her symptoms reemerge.
Well, that was last Saturday. Four rapid fire sneezes and a glob of cat snot on my kitchen floor (much easier to clean, by the way, than the bathroom walls.) meant I was calling the vet the following Monday. We had our appointment with Dr. Alfred today.
Basically, we got the same prescription as before. He looked at her for about thirty seconds and then left the room to call in the prescription. Prednisone and whatever the other one was. Don't remember the name but it smelled terrible.
"I don't have liquid prednisone in stock," Dr. Alfred said, sticking his head back in the room at one point. "Can you give her a pill?"
"I guess so," I said. "Never have had to before."
"Just crush it up and put it in some wet cat foot."
"Okay," I said and made a mental note to go out and buy some wet cat food because my cats generally only get dry.
Then he disappeared again. I could hear him on the phone, ordering the liquid prednisone from the pharmacy. When he finished, he came back in the room.
"Where'd you get it the last time?" he asked. "Wal Mart?"
"The (insert name of other medication here)," he said.
"You had it shipped to me," I said because he had.
"You're kidding," he said.
"Why would I kid about that?" I asked. I do make a lot of jokes but I don't know why I would make a joke about that one.
Dr. Alfred left the room again and called the pharmacy back. They supposedly still had me on file and yet I had to give them my phone number, shipping address and credit card number all over again.
Then they left the room some more. We'd been in the exam room for almost an hour when he came back with the pills of prednisone.
"Sorry about the wait," he said.
"No problem," I said. "Just wait until you meet my other cat, Fat Cat (also known as Jenny). We'll be even then."
"She's a real delight," I said. "And by 'delight', I mean 'terror'."
"Well, we do have bite gloves."
"And you'll need them," I said.
I then related the tale of Jenny's infamous vet visit where she totally freaked out and put four puncture wounds in my palm, deep enough to send me to the emergency room the next morning because of the red lines of death shooting up my arm. That was the vet visit that earned her the really big red flag on her file. Interesting side note: that particular vet did not use actual red markers on the folders because apparently some clients were offended when their animals were deemed aggressive or whatever. I told them I wasn't offended because Jenny had certainly earned her aggressive stripes. Didn't want anyone else to get bitten.
Anyway, I was asked to call them at the start of next week (note to self: make sure you write a note to remind yourself to call them at the start of next week.) to see if the liquid prednisone came in so I can go and pick some up.
"Really, the only other thing we can do is nose scoping," Dr. Alfred said.
"Nose scoping?" I asked. "That sounds delightful."
And slightly expensive. A nose scoping costs somewhere around $300.
"Why don't we stick with this first," I said, especially since $50 worth of cat medications were currently being mixed and shipped to my door. "And we'll see where it goes from there."
Because I'm sure Lily would love to experience a nose scoping. Who wouldn't?